


i'll return home one day

by awkwardedgeworth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, kuroo is a sneaky matchmaker, pro vball player bokuto, violinist akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:36:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardedgeworth/pseuds/awkwardedgeworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bro," He asks Kuroo out of the blue one day when they're toweling their hair dry, "What if Sawamura is halfway across the world and he only comes home seven times a year for around four days each?"</p>
<p>"I would consider every moment a blessing. You got it bad for Akaashi already?"</p>
<p>"I just wish you would introduce us sooner."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, wherein Akaashi is a world famous violinist, Kuroo introduces him to future Olympian-to-be Bokuto Koutarou. And Bokuto pines. A lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll return home one day

**Author's Note:**

> jesus this fic took me like two weeks. i wrote this before my final week of semester one and i couldn't touch it because i had biology and english final assignments to worry about and here it is. two weeks later.....this one is so inconsistent ugh im so sorry //cries
> 
> Edit: I fixed some grammar mistakes
> 
> Edit July 31, 2015: A VERY PRECIOUS AND KIND CINNAMON BUN DREW THE LAST SCENE OF THIS STORY AND I'M STILL SCREAMING ABOUT IT PLEASE CHECK IT OUT AND SEND THEM YOUR LOVE BECAUSE I LOVE IT TO DEATH.  
> http://genociderae.tumblr.com/post/125535861343/he-tastes-victory-knows-it-well-but-this-type-of
> 
> Edit July 22, 2017: formatting and punctuation edits

Bokuto hates off seasons the most. 

Off season means that their gym time will be swallowed by the basketball team and they have to start training elsewhere. They'd have to do more muscle training since the season is already over, and that's always followed by training camp in the middle of nowhere with cold ass mornings, thin blankets, and the too hot sun.

But most of all, Bokuto hates this year's off season because he, former captain of Fukurodani, and one of the top 5 spikers in the country, tore his shoulder when he performed a cross spike that advanced their team to the finals.

Kuroo, who unfortunately was rooming with Bokuto and Sawamura, had other ideas this summer. Instead of actually participating in the training camp (which, you know,  _they were suppose to_ ) and listening to Bokuto whine and moan about how he has to work on his lower body instead of sending volleyballs to an unsuspecting Oikawa (who preens on court with a compact mirror), he struck a bargain with his long time friend who went abroad, and decided that Bokuto might as well relax while he can't move his arm.

"This is a bad idea."

Kuroo snorts, fanning himself with a thick brochure as they head up to the city music center. It's hot and sticky and his hair is clumping together. Absolutely a nightmare, "What are you talking about? Coach said it was okay as long as you kept your shoulder still-" 

"But Bro!" Bokuto pleads, entering the air conditioned hall and praising whoever invented it and pointing at the black cloth that made waving with his right arm impossible. "My arm is itchy! This thing is a death trap- you don't understand. I can't sit still in a concert. And who is your friend anyway? Sawamura says he knows him-"

"Oh my  _god_ just shut up."

Bokuto pouts.

 

Bokuto takes all the trash talk he says about classical music and its ability to knock him out back.

Kuroo's friend, which he finds out after a great struggle with the pamphlet is called Akaashi Keiji, plays something called  _Introduction and Rondo something by Saint-Something_. Bokuto had watched in boredom, noting the tired, jet lagged eyes and the posture of an exhausted man, but once he walks out and stands in the middle, all stage lights shining on him, it was as if his soul was being poured back into his body.

And then he began to play.

And Bokuto could  _not_ take his eyes away from him.

 

Akaashi stores his violin back into the case, loosening the tie around his neck before dropping onto the squashy couch and closing his eyes. A bead of sweat trails down his forehead and he sees the music score imprinted into his eyes before recalling that his violin sounded particularly bronze today. Not a bad color. Not a good color either. Mediocre.

Red brown. Burgundy. Someone knocking, "Hello? Akaashi?"

With a fluidity of a cat, Akaashi opens the door to see Kuroo and someone with startling white hair gelled up as if the person has been electrocuted behind him. Even though his vision has long blurred beyond repair from countless of dark nights in his room with only a table lamp illuminating his sheet music, Akaashi can see that the newcomer is built athletically. Like, ridiculously athletic to the point where he can see the hems of the short sleeves stretching around his biceps. "Kuroo-san." He greets.

"Nice performance. Saint-Saens's a good choice." His childhood friend enters the room and looks around at the sparsity of it. "You dropped your luggage at the hotel already?"

"No, it's in the rental car." Kuroo's friend walks in after a little hesitation, bumping into the door and cursing as he massages the arm stuck in a tight sling. "You never said you'd bring a friend." He expected Kenma at the least. Or Daichi. Or Lev.

Kuroo slyly grins, before clapping down a hand onto his friend, who hoots out of surprise. "This," he points, "is Bokuto Koutarou. He sprained his shoulder so he has to miss training camp. I brought him here since Bokuto needs fresh air."

Akaashi puts a mildly troubled frown, "What about you and Kenma-san? And Sawamura-san?"

"They've gone ahead. His doctor said that he'll be taking the sling off next week, so I'm here to keep an eye on this idiot so he doesn't do anything reckless and break it." 

"Okay. Nice to meet you, Bokuto-san."

And when Bokuto whirls from looking at his violin case, Akaashi sees a grin made out of fireworks and suns and warmth. His voice is a mixture of golds and yellows and it sounds so melodious— nothing like Akaashi has ever heard of. His eyes widens. 

" _Hey hey hey,_ " Bokuto grins goofily.

 

Bokuto stares at the door of his apartment in apprehension, gripping his gym bag in one hand and holding the cold door knob in the other. He can hear Akaashi playing from inside. Turns out Kuroo invited the violinist to room with them until he finds his own apartment. Bokuto's mouth has gone dry within seconds, because holy crap Akaashi Keiji is beautiful and is going to be walking around their apartment playing music and sitting on their couch and eating meals with them and is going to get stared at a lot by Bokuto.

"He just came back from performing abroad. His lease expired and he hasn't gotten a chance to renew it, so he'll be sleeping on the couch," Bokuto hears Kuroo tell Sawamura one day, when Bokuto is desperately de-clumping spaghetti from the bottom of the pot (Akaashi is knocked out on the couch in the afternoon due to jet lag). "That's okay right?"

"Of course, Tetsu," Bokuto quickly mumbles  _ew_  into the pot as the couple did couple-y stuff in front of the sleeping foreigner.

He opens the door and sees Akaashi wearing shorts and a t-shirt, hair blowing since Sawamura opened all the windows before leaving for his classes. Akaashi's in the middle of wiping his sweat away with a flick of his wrist, as his reading glasses droops on the bridge of his nose. "Oh, hello Bokuto-san."

"Hey!" Bokuto closes the door before dumping the bag near the laundry room. "I just bought our lunch. Instant noodles is okay, right?" Bokuto figures Akaashi wasn't as picky as Sawamura, who insisted on fish for every meal with a balanced side dish composed of vegetables because he's such a dad.

"Sure."

So Bokuto pads into the kitchen and starts to take out the bowls, pots and lids as Akaashi returns to his music, angry arpeggios and runs being played with mistakes painting an abstract picture in Bokuto's mind. Bokuto hums into his little world as Akaashi's sawing intensifies until it stops and Bokuto hears a flop. 

He sticks his head out, "You okay, man?" 

Akaashi's head is swallowed into the pillows. His voice comes out muffled as Bokuto cracks an egg into each bowl before placing it on the breakfast bar, "...I can't see the notes...the tuning is ugly and I need to piece perfected as soon as possible." He looks up and picks himself up to the breakfast before quietly thanking Bokuto.

Bokuto hides his blush behind his hand before sitting on Akaashi's right, elbows nearly touching. The air between them is sparking, Bokuto thinks as he scoops some noodles in his mouth, excited electrons whizzing around. Akaashi's glasses are fogging up, and Bokuto finds the little gesture endearing,  _really_ endearing.

"If you can't hear the notes, why don't you...listen to a recording?" Bokuto says around the noodles, "I usually watch matches with Iwaizumi when we want to practice a quick set with Prince Pouty."

"...Prince Pouty?" 

"Oh, sorry. Kageyama and Oikawa. Kageyama doesn't pout as much as Oikawa but you get the picture. So how about it? Have you listened to a recording?"

"I did. The timing is when the accompaniment comes in...." Then Akaashi is using music slang and the voice in Bokuto's head turns into static as his ears shuts out  _two-on-threes_ and  _left hand trills._

"We have a piano in the music department," Bokuto cuts in, stopping Akaashi in his rant about  _backwards glissando_. He's pretty sure the music department at least has a piano. And it's Sunday. No one will be using it, right? "If you want, I'll let you in with my pass." Some people might give him weird looks since his gym bag sticks out like a sore thumb, but hey, there's a first time for everything. 

"So how about it?" Bokuto prompts Akaashi after slurping the broth.

"Let's go, Bokuto-san."

 

It's a breath of cold air that Akaashi sucks into his heat filled lungs when he steps through security with Bokuto and into the music hall. They look out of place with the few people sitting around a large bronze statue of some composer with a wig, but Akaashi eagerly hurries to the main concert hall and opens the unlocked door, ignoring the grand ceiling ("HOLY COW!") and making a bee line to the grand piano on the stage.

It's polished to perfection, no finger oil residue on the shiny keys. Akaashi lowers himself to the seat and uncurls his fingers and lets them hover above the piano.

"—Do you play?"

He looks up sharply at the yellow voice and into Bokuto's cheerful eyes, "Do you play?" He repeats, grin fixed on his face that compels Akaashi to grin too. Something in Akaashi's stomach flutters. Maybe he shouldn't have asked Bokuto to add chili into his broth.

"...I passed piano," There's a quizzical arch to Bokuto's eyebrows. "As in levels. I passed grade 10 when I was in middle school."

"That's so cool!" Bokuto unceremoniously sits on the piano bench and nearly shoves Akaashi off. "Play me something! Kuroo never told me you played!"

Akaashi closes his eyes after shooting the volleyball player a small frown. Countless titles churn in his head before he decides on something simple. It's so easy to get lost in the music, especially with a quiet Bokuto by his side as his fingers travel from side to side. When Akaashi finishes, Bokuto's mouth has fallen.

"I wish I could play like that."

"Maybe next time, Bokuto-san."

"'Next time'?"

He spreads his performance piece before plunking the left hand aimlessly, "I leave for Rostov in seventeen hours. Then after that I'll be flying to Moscow. Then St. Petersburg." After that he comes home for a few days, just enough time to tweak his violin and to fix any broken strings before jumping on another plane. His home is his violin and suitcase. 

"Oh," Akaashi ignores the sad tilt of Bokuto's voice. "When are you going to be back?"

"In two weeks," He finds the passage he's looking for and sight reads the right hand while leaning into the score, forgetting that his glasses is sitting on his head.

"Do you...do this often?"

"I do," Akaashi replies. "Maybe that's why Kuroo hasn't introduced me to you until now."

 

"You'll text me, right? You got my number?" Bokuto jumps up and down as he, Kuroo, and Sawamura sees him off at the airport gate before security. Bokuto looks at Akaashi's pitifully small violin case— his luggage has been sent ahead— and wishes he can join him.

"I'll try my best, Bokuto-san," Akaashi replies, wearing a jacket too hot for Tokyo but perfect for Russia. "Thank you for the stay, Kuroo-san, Sawamura-san."

"Honestly Akaashi, it's Kuroo," Then the tall middle blocker gives the shorter man a noogie in the head. "Have fun there, wherever you're going."

"Thank you," And Akaashi steps beyond security, giving a short bow to them before walking forward with a lonely back.

 

Akaashi wishes he's back in Tokyo the moment he steps out of the airport. The cold is sinking into his bones and he hurries into a cab and hands the driver the address of the hotel before reaching into the pocket of his jacket to dig out his phone.

His voice mail is blinking, so he taps the little icon and holds his phone up to his ear.

" _You have five messages. The first one—_ " Akaashi mumbles a quiet  _oh no_  before Bokuto's shout goes into his ear like a harpoon. "' _AKAASHI! YOU LEFT YOUR TIE HERE AT TOKYO! DID YOU LEAVE IT ON PURPOSE?—'_ "

_Beep._

"' _Ignore Bokuto, Akaashi. If you need your tie, you should call us, we'll mail it to you._ '" Sawamura's soothing voice paints Akaashi's vision with blue. "' _Other than that, I think Bokuto is calling you again, you should ignore it if you want to keep your ears in tact. Good luck at Rostov!_ '"

Akaashi ends the voice mail before sighing in his seat. He sends a text saying he's landed safely to everyone before reassuring Bokuto that he doesn't need the tie, thank you for offering to mail it here.

He checks into the hotel, lying on the mattress as he looks at the unfamiliar ceiling. He's seen unfamiliar ceilings all his life, moving from house to house as his parents move neighborhoods to suburbs to cities to apartments to houses. Then he switches between schools with varying levels of music programs and sees more ceilings there. And when he goes professional, it's not a surprise that unfamiliar ceilings are what grounds him.

Akaashi rolls onto his side and sorely misses the MSG dosed instant noodles and a bright smile, thousands of miles away as he watches Rostov wake up to a new day.

 

When he returns to Japan, greeting Kuroo's  _wow did you pale even further?_  and shaking Sawamura's hand, he decides to follow Kuroo's tip, and catches the train to the general hospital, still dressed formally from his last concert in the sweltering heat.

He walks to a rather shady oak tree, before leaning back and watching the hospital entrance, ignoring people when they mumble,  _is that Akaashi Keiji?_

"Akaashi?!"

"Bokuto-san—" He manages to say, before being tackled with a bear hug and lifted— at this point Akaashi's hands are grasping Bokuto's broad shoulders. " _Bokuto-san!_ "

"It's  _so_ good to see you, man!" Bokuto joyfully spins him around, and Akaashi closes his eyes to repel the blurs spinning in and out of his vision as he feels his lunch coming up. Motion sickness and he do not go hand in hand, "How's Rostov? And Yekaterinburg? And Moosecow?"

When Akaashi is lowered, he corrects the slightly taller spiker, slightly miffed at how Bokuto has an easy time picking him up, "It's Moscow. And it went well. Your shoulder is healed?"

"OH YEAH! IT DOESN'T HURT ANYMORE!" Bokuto yells excitedly. "I CAN GO BACK TO SPIKING TOSSES AND USING THIS ARM AGAIN!" To make his point even more clear, Bokuto picks Akaashi up again, before he gets a withering glare and an order to put him down- _there are people taking pictures of them._

 

They eat out that night, after Akaashi takes a much needed shower and changing into a normal set of clothes that doesn't consist of thick suit jackets or pressed trousers. Kuroo shows him a video of their recent match against another university, and Akaashi finally knows what Prince Pouty looks like (Kageyama, tall with an intimidating look; Oikawa, brown curls and polite smiles).

"So, when are you leaving again?" Is the question that comes up after they're past their third Sapporo can. Akaashi mentally sighs. They're not going to like this. Or more specifically, Akaashi won't, but he supposes he'll get out of everyone's back since he's staying with Kuroo again. 

"In three days," Akaashi replies, quiet in the loud restaurant. "They want me to fly to London first and attend a week long seminar and give a lecture to the graduating students."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Sawamura muses over his oolong tea. (Someone needs to be sober to drive all of them home.) 

"They invited me to play with the London Philharmonic for two months," Kuroo's eyes widens and Sawamura stops drinking his tea. Bokuto looks confused, and Akaashi explains. "They're very famous. Their conductor invited me to tour with them after that. But I'll come home for a week before going away."

"How long?"

"....a whole year."

 

Bokuto sits beside Akaashi as they wait for the check in line to shorten. Fall is already here, and Bokuto digs his chin into his scarf. "I can see why you don't have time to go house hunting," He says dryly.

Akaashi makes a non committal noise in his throat, "I will text you if my performance will be aired or recorded."

"Doesn't it get tiring?"

"All this travelling? Yes."

"Then why don't you settle down?" _Why don't you settle down here and play with the Tokyo Orchestra and go to university with us and live with us?_ Bokuto hates the fact how Akaashi is sitting in the eye of the storm, with him going into the storm itself to try to find Akaashi. He'd find him, before the storm whisks him away and the violinist is miles away.

"...I like travelling, when I don't have to leave at absurd times of the day. And I like music, so why can't I do both?"

"Are you going to retire touring soon?"

"...I'm still thinking about that," Akaashi says. Bokuto only realized it a few weeks ago that the man sitting beside him is like, a classical violinist god who's a household name. The more he searches, the more he sees Akaashi's concert advertisements around town.

"I have to go now."

Bokuto springs up to his feet as Akaashi gathers his suitcase and violin, "Have fun speaking English," Bokuto draws him into a quick hug and tries to quell the butterflies in his stomach. "Stay in touch with us!"

Akaashi blinks. "Can you understand English?"

"What—  _no_. I'm Japanese, why would I need to understand English?"

Akaashi is definitely smirking at him now, " _I'll miss you, Bokuto._ "

 

("Hey Sawamura can you translate something for me?")

 

As fall disappears and winter sets in, Bokuto trades his t-shirts and light jerseys for thick sweatpants and scarves. The last leaves are just starting to fall off when their university team qualifies for the championship that will let them win the National Title, but before that, Bokuto crowds around Sawamura's laptop as Kuroo obnoxiously pelts him with popcorn.

"Will you stop that— I'm trying to watch Akaashi!"

"Oho, look at him Daichi—  _so flustered—_ "

Sawamura angrily grunts, "If you don't behave you're not watching Akaashi perform," when the man himself walks out onto a large state dominated by professional musicians and takes his place beside the conductor. Bokuto squints as a small title comes on the screen. Deep in his heart, he knows he should have taken English.

"Sawamura, who's Paganini? Isn't Akaashi's name Akaashi?" 

Kuroo sighs heavily before motioning him to just watch the screen.

Bokuto has an 8AM class tomorrow first thing in the morning, and due to the time difference, it's already 4 AM and they all just crawled back from a late practice. Sawamura is already out like a light, snoring lightly before Kuroo mumbles  _don't stay up too late bro_  and picks Sawamura up to carry him to his room. He's only aware of the heater humming beside him, and Akaashi's pale face and confident posture moving the bow...

When Bokuto jolts up, he sees that it's 9:28 AM, and groans before checking his phone to see a new message from Akaashi, and decides that sleeping next to Sawamura's laptop wasn't all that bad.

_Did you have a chance to see the performance, Bokuto-san? A recorded section should be up by now if you check._

Bokuto eagerly replies with,  _I watched the live performance! You need more sleep Akaashi!_ For fun, he searches up the video of the performance and scrolls down as mini Akaashi is playing. A lot of comments were from various professionals, he assumes, but a surprising majority of them are of people commenting how good looking the violinist, and Bokuto slams the laptop cover to a close.

_I can't sleep easily. London is quieter than Japan but it's not the same._ Is Akaashi's reply.  _How is your shoulder, Bokuto-san? I hope the university will be aiming for the championships._

Bokuto feels a thrill of joy run through him, and sits up as Kuroo's bedroom door opens. He says a distracted good morning, you're head is ridiculous, I haven't made breakfast and yes I'm texting Akaashi stop reading over my shoulder.

_My shoulder's good! And we just qualified! Will be working harder from now on!_

_That's great._

 

Akaashi cruises around in the after concert party (one of the many he has to attend) with a champagne in hand when his dark eyes flickers to the many television screens suspended on the wall. 

"Akaashi Keiji!"

The conductor smiles and Akaashi dips his head politely before being introduced to many important people whose face he'll forget the moment he escapes the room. The television is still flickering, and Akaashi stands in the middle of the hotel ballroom, his dress shoes sinking in the plush carpet as the caption says "UK Olympic Team revealed".

When he gets back to his room, he quickly takes off his tie before waking up his phone from it's sleep.

_OHMYGOD AKAASHI THERE WAS LIKE. SEVEN SCOUTS AT PRACTICE TODAY. SEVNE! THEYR'E ALL WATCHIN G US AND WRITING ON THEIR CLIPOARDS LIKE EVIL VULTURES AND TWO OF THEM C AME UP TO KAGEYAMA OIKAWA KURO O SHORTIE AND I. AND WE'R E GOING TO THE OLMPPCS! OLYMMPICS!!!!!!!_

Akaashi's eyes widens and he opens his trusty laptop before googling where the Olympics will take place.

Tokyo. Tokyo 2020.

 

Bokuto falls into a routine of waking up early before the sun even rises to go jog around before hitting the weight room with Kuroo. He attends practice and slams the volleyball with new found passion. He's walking on air. Akaashi will return from his international tour during the wrap up party and Bokuto can spin him around the room! And it'll be even better when they have a gold medal around their necks!-

Oh he's so screwed. 

"Bro," He asks Kuroo out of the blue one day when they're toweling their hair dry, "What if Sawamura is halfway across the world and he only comes home seven times a year for around four days each?"

"I would consider every moment a blessing. You got it bad for Akaashi already?"

"I just wish you would introduce us sooner."

 

When Akaashi comes home, Bokuto drags him out on a date.

Except Akaashi doesn't seem to realize it was one. They go to Shibuya for a new luggage (since Akaashi will be on a year long tour and needs more than just a small suitcase), and Bokuto's new volleyball equipment, where a lot of passerbys squealed and asked for both of their autographs before they hit the optometrist.

Bokuto is mindlessly staring at the different frames displayed on the wall when he sees Oikawa modelling for a sunglasses company and snorts.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Akaashi walks out of the examination room, shoulders weighed down with his violin case. "They say the lenses will be ready in an hour. Do you need to go drop by somewhere else?"

"No man! I'm happy wherever you want to go," Bokuto steps by Akaashi's side as they exit the store. The summer air is starting to wane into a cooler temperature, and the tall buildings surrounding them provides them relief. It's been nearly one year, Bokuto thinks as they enter the train again to go to the music store where Akaashi needs to pick up some things. It's been one year since he fractured his shoulder and had the luck to meet Akaashi.

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"What's your favorite color?"

Akaashi chuckles, and Bokuto feels the tips of his ears go red, "Why the questions suddenly?"

"Well. Since I figure you can reply in seconds instead of taking days to answer some of my questions, I'd get to know you better." He stubbornly juts his chin out. He sees Akaashi smirk before opening the shop's door and leading him to the strings section.

"White."

"White?" 

"It can influence any of the colors, except itself. That's what I hope my music do for people who listen to them. I want to change their perspective just for a little while." The violinists cocks his head to the side for a moment, perhaps listening to the Ravel playing through the store's speakers. "Although no one's voice I hear is white, sadly. What about you Bokuto san?"

"Hm...maybe yellow. Or gold. YEAH! Gold! 'Cuz I'm gonna win the gold medal!"

And then they spend the rest of the day asking each other questions, like who's your favorite composer, what's your favorite piece, are you a night or day person, how bad is your eyesight really, where did you go for high school, what about university, what's your favorite type of ramen, what do you eat for breakfast?

 ("I don't have a preference, Clair de Lune, night, both my eyes are -3.50, a school abroad in Berlin, Juillard in the States, cream based soup and I moderately switch between coffee or instant oatmeal.")

 

"One more tour," Is all Akaashi says when Kuroo walks him to the airport gates. Bokuto is sulking behind Akaashi, stuffing his fists in his jackets and looking solemnly at the ground as Sawamura does his best to cheer him up.

Kuroo hums a "It'll pass by in a flash," to ease the shorter man. Akaashi lugs along an upgraded suitcase since he'll be hopping from plane to plane for the foreseeable future. He can live without seeing Kuroo and his friends for a year. He's done it before.

But that was before Bokuto.

In the short week Akaashi has spent with the to-be-Olympians, they've mercilessly dragged him out of the apartment at ridiculous hours in the morning and returned when the sky is pitch black like they won't see him ever again. And Bokuto was the worse of them all. Akaashi was actually invited by Oikawa (who has their coach wrapped around his finger) to replace him since he has a date with whomever "Iwa-chan" is.

So thank goodness Akaashi didn't jam his fingers, but he felt the smooth texture of the volleyball and had volleyed it perfectly to Bokuto countless of times and experienced a different kind of victory that's addicting.

"Here we are."

Sawamura smiles and gives him a fatherly pep talk that manages to calm Akaashi's pre-flight nerves. He and Kuroo give Akaashi a new tie (silver with faint metallic stripes) that Kuroo thinks will make him look dashing to the ladies. He wryly thanks Kuroo's vote of confidence and turns to see Bokuto.

He's suddenly being lifted slightly and is rather glad that Bokuto can't see his red cheeks as the volleyball player hugs him, "Which cities were they again?"

"New York, Boston, San Francisco, Brussels, Antwerp.... across Europe and Australia and South America." He closes his eyes to shut out all the colors trickling down his ears and concentrates on the scent of Bokuto's hair gel and shampoo and the texture of his sports jersey. This will be the last time he'll ever hug Bokuto and see Sawamura and Kuroo until he can fly back to Japan. And that's in a year. A year is a long time, so Akaashi mumbles into Bokuto's ears, "Rotterdam, Cologne, Munich, Oslo, Stockholm, Saratov, Moscow, Omsk, Reykjavik, Dublin, Bristol, Brighton, London, Liverpool-"

"What about the country of love?" His voice is gold.

"It's the c _ity_ of love, Bokuto-san. Dijon, Paris, Montpellier, Rome, Florence, Verona."

"And Asia?" Akaashi is still being hugged, and it's nice. It's really nice to feel someone else's body heat against yours and to be slightly shorter so he can bury his face into Bokuto's shoulders and feel his arms being wrapped by another pair and smell pine and the detergent Sawamura uses and crisp linen all at once. 

"Surabaya, Jakarta, Bangkok, Taoyuan City, Hong Kong, Nanchang, Chongqing, Shanghai, and Beijing. Then Sapporo, Aomori, Sendai, Nagaoka, Tokyo, Yokohama, Nagoya, Osaka, Fukuyama, Yamaguchi, Kagoshima, Miyazaki, Chiba, and Tokyo again. Just in time for the Olympics."

"I lost interest in listening after Moscow," Bokuto lets him go, and Akaashi sees his golden eyes gleam with mischief. "You'll call us, right?"

"Mhm."

"You downloaded Snapchat so we can snap you our new jerseys, right?"

"Of course, Bokuto-san." The speaker overhead announces that they're calling for the last passengers for his flight, and Akaashi quickly grabs his suitcase handle from Sawamura and squeezes Bokuto's hand before speed walking to the security.

"GOOD LUCK AKAASHI!"

And that was that.

 

_New York, Boston, San Francisco_

Akaashi misses Bokuto like how he misses Japanese ramen. He finds calmness in pine shampoos and goes to a nearby Target at an ungodly hour in the morning with a baseball cap to hide his face as he purchases a bottle.

_  
  
Brussels, Antwerp_

He finally figures out how to use Snapchat and takes pictures of the city skyline and of the historical monuments. Sawamura praises him when he sends those over, and he gets a respond filled with Bokuto's pout and sad owl emojis asking for a selfie instead of "those boring statues that are like a thousand years old and have bird droppings all over it."

 

_Rotterdam, Cologne, Munich, Oslo_

Bokuto stays up late again to watch a live recording of Akaashi's performance. It's never old to him, even though the music bores him a little. Akaashi always does an encore of one of the songs and improvise. Those were always worth a Redbull and six cups of coffee the next day. They still continue to snap each other, and Akaashi has moved on from historical monuments to fancy buildings and panoramas of each concert halls, which still makes Sawamura delighted but come on. He hasn't seen him in three months already and he won't even take a selfie.

 

_Omsk, Reykjavik, Dublin_

The prized selfie comes during a particular nasty snow storm wherever Akaashi is. It's a badly taken picture, but Bokuto can manage to see the irritation in Akaashi's tired eyes and the gigantic pile of snow sitting on top of the airport runways.

Bokuto responds with a massive grin and a caption that says,  _Is that my scarf around your neck?_

_Kuroo planted it in my suitcase._

_Reykjavik, Dublin, Bristol, Brighton, London, Liverpool_

Akaashi misses Japanese food  **so** much. He misses the ramen and even Kuroo's onigiri that put Kenma to hospital. He misses Sawamura and he misses volleying and the concrete jungle and most importantly, he misses Bokuto so much it aches.

So it surprised him one day when he checks in into his hotel in Liverpool and sees a small package sitting on his bed from Bokuto. Crossing the room almost eagerly, because Akaashi never had a present before when he's touring, he opens the card while tugging the ribbon around the box loose.

_Dear Akaashi,_

_What the hell man why didn't you tell me it's your birthday?! I had to find out from Kenma since Kuroo's too much of an ass to tell me and Sawamura got angry at me because I locked his phone for 25 minutes trying to find his calendar. I hope you enjoy this! Go bling out on stage!_

_To-be Gold Medalist and Ace of the Japanese Men's Volleyball Team, Bokuto Koutarou_

Cuff links. Just simple, silver cuff links that's so polished Akaashi can use it as a mirror.

He makes sure to point his wrists directly at the camera later that night, hoping that Bokuto can see his gift being well used.

 

_Dijon, Paris, Montpellier_

Akaashi wakes up to the smell of croissants brought to his room and his phone beeping like a demon has possessed it and is demanding for Akaashi to pay attention to it.  
  
 _WE GOT OUR OLYMPIC JERSEYS!!11!!!111!1!!1_  is Bokuto's excited caption. Akaashi smiles as he scrolls through the pictures like reading his morning newspapers. There's a picture of Hinata and Kageyama bursting into tears along with a footage of Kageyama wiping his eyes furiously yelling " _PLEASE DON'T SEND THAT VIDEO TO ANYONE BOKUTO-SAN!_ " with Oikawa howling in the background. Kuroo's dissatisfied scowl makes Akaashi snort as he holds up the jersey that's two sizes too small for him.

And then there's Bokuto practically glowing like the sun he is.

Akaashi screenshots the picture before it disappears.

 

_Rome, Florence, Verona_

Bokuto sends Akaashi a picture of his swollen ankle and a grumpy selfie.  _Twisted it because Kuroo slipped out of a tree rescuing a cat and landed on me instead of Sawamura._

The only answer he receives is,  _smh Bokuto-san_  and a picture of one of the Greek Gods statues looking disapprovingly at him.

 

_Surabaya, Jakarta, Bangkok_

Akaashi checks his phone and smiles as his background of Bokuto holding the same cat that Kuroo rescued pops up. Kuroo, being emotionally attached to felines, absolutely refused to hand it off to a shelter and insists that President Puss Puss should live with them. After all, how can any of them resits those amber eyes and cute black ears and white paws?

 

_Taoyuan City, Hong Kong, Nanchang, Chongqing, Shanghai, and Beijing_

He stays in Shanghai for nearly too long, wandering around the city and trying every food stall he comes across in the night market. The world is pumping itself up for the arrival of the Olympics in just under two months, and Akaashi passes by a magazine stall and sees a candid picture of the completely new venues for July.

Then he sees it.

Perfect.

 

_Sapporo, Aomori, Sendai, Nagaoka_

_HEY HEY HEY AKAASHI! We're getting a grand tour of all the Olympic buildings and THEY'RE ALL SO COOL AND THE FLOORS ARE SO SQUEAKY._

_Aren't you suppose to be in training Bokuto-san?_

_You're so worried for me. Yes, but Kuroo is goofing off with Oikawa and Kageyama caught a cold so we're not really doing much until one of the Princes either stop flicking ice cubes at me or get better._

_That's rough buddy._

_  
  
Tokyo, Yokohama, Nagoya_

He thanks all deities above and beyond for being able to eat ramen again. And good Sapporo beer. And decent quality matcha and mochi. Akaashi sorely wishes he can drop by the apartment before he flies out to Yokohama but they have a press conference tonight with all major broadcasting networks and interviews with various sports magazines all this month, so he doubts they'll be home.

But he does ask one of his assistants to deliver a parcel to them.

_  
  
Osaka, Fukuyama, Yamaguchi_

Bokuto opens the parcel with excitement and gasps, before unlocking his phone and calling Akaashi's number. "NO WAY!" He shouts when the man picks up. "NO FREAKING WAY!"

"Yes way, Bokuto-san." 

"WHERE DID YOU GET A BACKPACK SHAPED LIKE AN OWL?!"

"Dongchang Road."

"YOU'RE MY HERO!" Bokuto sniffles, hearing Akaashi hoarsely laugh. "Oh my god this is so great I should definitely wear it tomorrow for the interview at seven- can you believe it? An interview at seven!"

"Oh. That's...quite early. Will it be televised?"

Bokuto rubs his chin with one hand before covering his phone and yelling to Kuroo if it's televised. "Yeah it's televised." He says to Akaashi. "Aren't you going to be flying to somewhere else by tomorrow morning?"

"Mhm. To Kagochima—" Akaashi yawns into his ear and Bokuto stifles a fluttery sigh. "Sorry Bokuto-san, but I'm dead tired and I have to wake up early again tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah. I feel you. Good night Akaashi!"

"Good luck tomorrow."

 

_Kagoshima, Miyazaki, Chiba_

Akaashi, for the first time in his life, misses an airplane on purpose.

It wasn't on purposely exactly, it was just that the bellboy knocked over his violin case and it popped and bounced a few feet on the carpet and he had to deal with the bellboy fainting before checking if his violin was okay and he could have honestly made it to the airport for it were not for the whole fainting shebang. But he calls the front desk and asks for some smelling salts. He explains the general picture of the incident to the manager, who paled to a shade that even Akaashi can't achieve, and profusely apologizes on behalf of the hotel.

"It's fine," He reassures the weepy manager as he checks the clock and finds that he'll be soon running late if he doesn't catch a cab soon. "There's no damage the violin nor myself."

It's the magazine that made him late.

He's speed walking as fast as he can without looking like an angry buffalo when a sport magazine catches his eyes and Akaashi stops, before picking it up from the stand and flipping through to the interview of the Men's Volleyball Team. There's a very nice professional looking shoot of the team with their red and black jerseys.

Akaashi is scanning every face; Kageyama looks fierce, Hinata looks excited, Oikawa looks calm and collected, Kuroo and Bokuto wins the award for most interesting hair.

And he looks up, and sees his plane take off.

"—What are your motivations for the Olympics, Bokuto-kun?"

Spinning around, he sees the entire volleyball team sitting on the couch and around a small coffee table as a nice lady who Akaashi see every morning for news angles the mike to a particularly red Bokuto on the television screen. 

" _Well—_  erm—"

Kuroo jumps in, grinning like the asshole he claims himself to be, clapping a powerful hand on Bokuto's shoulder in the process. "It'd be his special someone," Then, Akaashi reflects with horror, Kuroo has the  _balls_ to wink directly at the camera as the entire team laughs. 

Sawamura's going to kick him onto the couch for sure.

"Special someone? Oh, this is exciting! Will we know their name soon? All of Japan will be so disappointed at this I'm sure- especially since you're one of the few bachelors on the team!"

"Sure is!" Kuroo rambles on, ignoring Bokuto's weak pleas. "And the best thing is— I introduced them!"

 

_Tokyo_

It's the orange court.

They've made it this far.

Bokuto breathes in and out as the team sheds their jackets and surrounds the coach. The whole stadium is waving flags and posters and the stereo is  _blasting_ Queen's We Will Rock You. The amount of energy in the room is making Bokuto's nerves shake slightly, but he listens to Oikawa's pep talk, where he tells them he believes in them.

They step on court.

Bokuto flexes his shoulders and watches as Hinata ruffles Kageyama's head. The younger setter is sitting out and will substitute Oikawa, since he just  _can_. He feels jittery and feels a slap on his back from Kuroo.

"Hang in there."

"I'm not nervous!" Bokuto's eye twitches as the opposing team steps on court. His brain is thinking a million times faster and he thinks how weird red and black looks on Oikawa, and how Hinata's orange hair sort of clashes with their uniform.

Kuroo grins, "He'll be here soon. We're all going to pick him up with our gold medals and you can gloat and finally kiss him-"

" _Shut up bro_."

 

Akaashi bows to the crowd for the final time, and waits until the curtains drop before jogging to his dressing room. Kuroo said that their game is lagging onto the third set. He accepts everyone's congratulations and says thank you to all of them, before being hugged by his manager and assistant.

The big neon boards surrounding the city were playing live feed of every event happening. Akaashi turns a corner and sees Bokuto spiking down, eyes hungry for the medal as they tie with Brazil. It's crazy. It's crazy how close he is to Bokuto right now. He's less than 5 kilometers away.

He runs to Ariake Arena and freezes when he realizes something.

No ticket.

The security glares at him, "No ticket, no entry."

Akaashi curses Kuroo for being such a bad influence, and apologizes to his mother before elbowing the guard and slipping pass the door. A lot of reporters shout in surprise when he barrels in, a team of guards following right him, " _Sorry excuse me will you let me through I'm so sorry!_ " He spits out as he works his way through the back door and into the changing room.

He can hear the commentary of course. It's blasting right into his ear in greys and reds and fluctuated with excitements and disappointments. It's Japan's set point. But Japan has been going back and forth with Brazil for the time it took him to run 5.4 km in full concert attire no less. Akaashi finds the right door to go out into the stage and he sees it.

He sees Oikawa receive the jump serve, sees the ball flying and misses Kageyama. It flies directly into the hand of a wing spiker from the other side and his stomach is in his mouth as the ball slowly spins towards the ground, Kuroo reacting too slowly-

And Bokuto's hand catches it, then he's screaming at Hinata and Kageyama to make it count. 

Akaashi smiles as the ball flies from Kageyama to Hinata, and how Hinata reaches up towards the sky like he has wings before slamming it down.

 

Noise. Whistling blowing. Hinata jumping on him. Kageyama screaming in his ears. Oikawa hugging Kageyama as both setters cry on national television. More noise. Thundering screams and applause that will give the user red, stinging hands. His eyes are burning and then Kageyama plucks Hinata off him and is hugging him. 

Kuroo tackles him to the ground and Oikawa joins them, and everyone is crying and Bokuto can't discern who's hair is who's anymore and it's all a blur of colors and noise. They stand up to their coach and huddles for a group hug as the stadium continues to cheer- thousands of voices yelling and blending everything into a sea of exhilaration and relief and joy. He tastes victory, knows it well, but this type of victory—

"Akaashi?"

The violinist looks surprised, standing behind one of the cameramen, but Bokuto runs towards him, shaking off Oikawa who's clinging to his shirt to run to Akaashi. Akaashi, who he hasn't seen in a year, who's skin has turn fairer since he's been spending his summers in Hokkaido and all around Japan. Who he hasn't seen other than in poorly lit pictures where he always looks so tired and haggard. Who smells like rosin and wood and a subtle cologne he sprays on his wrists when he meets famous conductors-

"Bokuto-san—"

He circles his arms around him- feeling the muscle constrict as he lifts him up. Sees Akaashi's bewildered eyes and dark curls sticking to his forehead and his new glasses dropping down the bridge of this nose as he leans closer. Bokuto is still surprised when Akaashi lets out a little chuckle, before kissing him in front of thousands, cameras swiveling to capture their moment on national television.

"Congratulations, Bokuto-san," He lowers Akaashi onto his fancy dress shoes and sees his cuff links on Akaashi's black suit. "You did it."

"I did it," He echoes quietly so only Akaashi can hear him, oblivious to Kuroo's and Oikawa's wolf whistling. "And you too. Congratulations on your tour."

Akaashi smiles, wrapping his arms around Bokuto's jersey into a hug, " _Tadaima_."

" _Okaeri_." 

**Author's Note:**

> the olympic games is actually gonna be in tokyo. i checked. and i was so surprised because wow it fits so nicely with this fic like damn.


End file.
